Iron String
by Emrys1
Summary: Were those pods really safe? PostAurora. Oh yeah, and shameless Shep whumping. And as it turns out, there's a lot of Rodney angst here as well! Holy Smokes and Hallelujah! It's COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Iron String 

Author: Emrys

Rating: I'm going to say for teenagers.

Warnings: None right now. Maybe language later on.

Spoilers: Aurora, Trinity, Conversion

Summary: Were those pods really safe? Post-Aurora. Oh yeah, and shameless Shep whumping

Disclaimer: I don't own anything! Especially not any of the characters or situations regarding Stargate Atlantis. Please don't sue! I'm serious…I don't own anything!

Author's Note: Oh, I shouldn't be doing this. One, I'm in the middle of writing another fic. Two, Titan5 is going to have a few things to say when she finds this. Three, I'm sick as a dog right now, and I'm not sure of the quality of the following work.

But I couldn't resist!

Oh, and I don't know anything about chess (hanging my head here).

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"_Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string."_

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

"What the hell were you thinkin', lad?" Beckett's voice was filled with dismay as he berated a seriously chagrined John Sheppard. "I thought I told you to take it easy, and instead I find out ye're crawlin' around in virtual realities! What are ye? Daft?"

John opened his mouth to defend himself but instead was interrupted by the raving tones of Rodney McKay who sat opposite him on another gurney in the infirmary.

"How many times do I have to tell you? It was a virtual _environment_! Besides, it was perfectly safe!" Rodney insisted.

"Yeah, what he said!" John pointed at the physicist and smiled charmingly.

"Besides, why should he listen to anything you say? I mean, any time I have to tell him something important he just stares into space. If he's not willing to listen to me, what makes you think he's going to even look in your direction?"

John gave Rodney a sharp look and then placed his head in his hands. This so wasn't going to go well.

Carson closed his eyes in a feeble attempt at pooling together the last vestiges of his patience. "All I'm saying," He growled in a scary rumble, "is that it wasn't too long ago that ye were lyin' in a hospital bed fighting a pretty nasty wraith retrovirus." Beckett paused at John's visible flinch in reaction to the memory. Sheppard did not like to dwell on the whole "bug-man incident" as he liked to call it. But it was a doctor's job to make sure that his patients considered their health, and so he pressed on in a more soothing tone. "Colonel, it stands to reason that ye should give a thought to your physical condition before recklessly hoppin' into alien technology."

"Hey listen! It wasn't reckless! Besides he did it too!" Sheppard pointed with juvenile glee to McKay in the hopes of directing some of the doctor's attention off of himself.

"I keep saying it was safe, don't I?" Rodney fumed. "Why is it that no one listens to me? You blow up one solar system and…."

"Okay, enough!" Beckett had reached the limits of his patience. "Gah! I dinna know how the two of ye are still alive at the rate ye're going. Ye're damn lucky, that's all I have to say!"

"So we can go?" John met Beckett's eyes hopefully.

"Aye, both of yer brain patterns are within normal parameters, so I imagine it would do us all a world of good if ye both returned to your duties." Beckett's voice was filled with resignation. There was no way either one of the two idiots would ever heed a word he had to say. It just wasn't in their nature.

Recognizing the end to Beckett's stormy mood, John smoothly swung himself off the gurney and resisted the urge to tell Beckett that the doctor on the Daedalus had said the same thing. Now that escape was so close, it wouldn't do to get the doctor's feathers all ruffled again.

Unfortunately, Rodney was not so considerate.

"Colossal waste of time! Do you know how much work I have to do? I mean, why you insist on running a second exam on us when one of your _own_ colleagues has already cleared us is beyond me!"

"Rodney…" Sheppard's tone was one of tight warning.

"No, really. I mean what good is having more than one doctor at our disposal if they're not going to listen to each other!"

Sheppard eyed Beckett's purpling face and carefully steered McKay towards the infirmary doors.

"McKay, I think we'd better leave now." The Colonel was now watching the doctor in the same wary way that he did the Wraith.

"I have a mother already, for pity's sake!" McKay seemed oblivious to his danger, and Sheppard was seriously considering leaving the physicist behind so that he could make his own, hasty escape.

But being forced to duck away from an airborne bedpan seemed to put Rodney on to the fact that he had overstepped some boundaries.

"Now that was totally uncalled for!" he yelled before scampering out of the infirmary and towards the relative safety of his lab.

Sheppard turned to stare incredulously at Carson. Beckett was usually a tower of professionalism, and John could not believe that the man had actually tossed a bedpan at McKay.

"Believe me, if I wanted to hit him, I would have," Carson explained with a smile. "But if I gave him a concussion, I'da have to listen to him for three days. Missin' was the only way I could think to get rid of him fast."

Sheppard smiled conspiringly. "Believe me, Doc, I know how you feel," he admitted.

Carson's smile quickly sobered. "Go on now. Ye have a briefin' to attend. But dinna hesitate to call me if ye need to."

"Okay, Doc. It's a deal." Sheppard offered agreeably. "But I think Rodney was right. It seems like that virtual reality pod was safe. I'm fine."

"Alright, then. Off with ye. Ye and Rodney aren't the only ones with work to do, ye know!" Beckett's smile returned, and John did as his doctor told him.

888

Caldwell was his usual annoying self at the briefing, but the champagne was good. Alcohol was a luxury that they so rarely indulged in but paying tribute to the lost crew of the Aurora was right. John felt the twinges of pain that accompanied the memories of the Aurora's crew ease a bit with the toast, and he was in a fine mood afterwards.

It wasn't until after a quick dinner with his team, when he was playing chess with Rodney in the physicist's quarters that things began to go to hell.

He had just moved his knight to a defensive position around his queen when suddenly Rodney's voice was slicing heavily through his concentration.

"…long are you going to just sit there? I mean, I know that I'm an intimidating opponent, and it's obvious that I'm going to win this game, but you have to move sometime."

John looked up at Rodney's slightly irritated gaze and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You know, I really wish you'd stop the whole ignoring me bit. It was annoying on the Daedalus, but now it's getting downright infuriating."

"Rodney, seriously, I don't know what you're talking about," John said, becoming irritated himself.

"Never mind," the physicist sulked. "Just go."

"But I just went," John insisted. "It's your turn."

"What are you talking about? I just moved a pawn. It's your turn." Rodney's face relayed his own confusion and growing impatience.

John studied the board and realized that Rodney was right. Somehow McKay had moved a pawn without his noticing it.

"I don't understand," Sheppard said, vacantly. Vague uneasiness drifted through him, and he realized that something didn't feel quite right.

"It's easy, Colonel," Rodney said, being purposefully condescending. "I make a move, and then you make a move. Now since I just went it's your…."

"Rodney, something's wrong," John interrupted the other man. His voice was unaccountably weak, and the feeling of wrongness escalated.

"Sheppard?" Rodney asked, now concerned. He made a move towards the Colonel when suddenly the John's eyes rolled into the back of his head. Twitching violently, John's body crashed to the floor. His hand hit the chessboard on the way down, and Rodney had a moment to be amazed that only Sheppard's knight fell out of place. Afterwards he was too busy trying to keep Sheppard from hurting himself while simultaneously contacting Beckett on his radio to notice much of anything.

John's body rolled in the throes of a violent seizure, but he knew none of this. His mind was elsewhere.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Again, thanks so much for all of your encouraging reviews. My fever, pounding head, muscle aches, and congestion have suddenly invited their friend nausea to the party, and so I sincerely doubt that I'll be able to post again for another couple of days. I'm not even sure why I'm sending this out now, except that I think it's done and that it's in decent form. Please forgive all mistakes…both grammatical and medical. Please don't flame me, etc. etc.

Hope you enjoy the read, and that it isn't too unclear.

Emrys

Iron String – Part 2 

"Okay, lad. That's good. Open ye're eyes."

John tried to do as the melodious voice commanded, but it was difficult. And when he finally did manage to push his eyelids open, they were so heavy that they immediately crashed back down.

"Come on, Sheppard. If you think this is going to get you out of finishing our game, I'll have you know that…." The louder, annoying voice was shushed by the first, but John responded to it anyway. His eyelids fluttered open, and then stayed open to focus on the worried faces of Beckett and McKay.

"Rod…ney?" he questioned. He was disoriented and could not figure out what had happened or where he was.

"Ah, nice to see that your brain actually didn't leak from out of your ears," Rodney said caustically. Despite his confusion, John recognized the tone. Rodney was terrified.

"Wha…what…happened?" When had speaking become so difficult?

"Ye're in the infirmary, Colonel. Ye had a seizure, son," Beckett told him plainly.

"What? How's that…I don't have…I don't understand," Sheppard's voice was thickly slurred, and he couldn't seem to make sense out of what Carson was telling him.

"We can't be sure, but it's reasonable to think it's related to your use of the pod on the Aurora," Carson stated while placing a calming hand on John's shoulder.

"Wha? The pod?" John's brain didn't seem to be able to make reasonable connections.

"It's alright, son. Everythin' will be fine. Disorientation commonly results from a seizure of the type and magnitude you experienced. We're just goin' to monitor ye for a while. Ye need to rest while we do that." Carson's voice was soothing, and John found his eyes drooping closed in response to it.

On the edge of sleep, something suddenly occurred to him, and his eyelids shot open with the ease brought on by the beginnings of panic.

"Rod…ney!" he called weakly.

"Yes, Colonel, I'm here." Sheppard noted the tension around Rodney's jaw and realized that the man was still terrified despite John's rally back to consciousness.

"You…okay?" The words were accompanied by a weak gasp for breath as his head suddenly began pounding mercilessly.

"Apparently, I'm fine. Doctor Beckett is just going to keep me for observation for a while. Just in case. Now if you're not ready to go to sleep, perhaps we can continue our game. Honestly, I've always thought that you were one to finish what you started, even if you were losing. I…."

"Rodney," Beckett's voice quieted the other man, and McKay looked towards the doctor. "He can't hear ye. He's asleep again, son." Rodney looked back at the now drowsing Sheppard, and his mouth suddenly felt dry. He had wanted to initiate a little banter. If Sheppard was able to joke around a bit, then Rodney knew that his friend was going to be all right.

"Oh." Disappointed, Rodney drooped a bit and waved a frantic hand around before clutching both arms around his torso. "Oh, okay. What's next?"

Beckett looked kindly upon McKay and then eased him towards the bed beside Sheppard's.

"Right now, ye need rest," he said as he wandered towards a cabinet on the far end of the room. "We still have no real idea what happened, and if this episode was related to the pods, like ye think it is, then I want ye to stay as relaxed as possible. I'm going to monitor both of yer brain patterns carefully for the next 24 hours or so, and I have to notify Dr. Weir about what happened, of course. I also imagine that the rest of yer team might be interested to know about what happened. But all of this can be done with ye lyin' down."

"Oh, okay," Rodney repeated, unhappily. He took a closer look at Sheppard and found himself shocked by the man's visible condition. Sheppard looked pale and fragile, two characteristics Rodney didn't usually associate with the Colonel. Even during the whole bug-man incident John had only gotten stronger. Rodney did not care for the sight of his friend in this diminished state.

"Here, ye'll be more comfortable in these," Beckett called and threw a pair of scrubs in McKay's direction. Rodney looked up and clumsily plucked the clothing out of the air.

Carson noted the deep lines of worry that marred the physicist's face and sighed heavily. "C'mon Rodney. Cheer up! If we can keep him from turnin' into a bug, we can figure this out, right?" Beckett's voice rang with confidence that he truly didn't feel.

"Right," Rodney responded miserably. He nodded once and then drew the privacy curtains around his bed while clutching the scrubs despondently. "Right."

888

He was lying on his side, and Elizabeth was peering at him intently the next time he was able to open his eyes. This time his head was clearer, and he recognized his surroundings immediately.

The infirmary. Again. It seemed as if he had just been released from the medical bay not too long ago, and now here he was stuck there again. He suddenly felt confined by the antiseptic scents and too-bright lights, and he grimaced in disgust.

Sheppard rolled over while still keeping an eye on Elizabeth. Every muscle in his body ached abominably, and he recognized the dual violations of a feeding tube and catheter when he moved. Groaning slightly, he put a shaky hand up to his head. A series of wires and patches coated his hair and forehead, and he quickly pulled his hand away so as not to disturb them.

EEG, he thought ruefully. What the hell had happened this time?

"John," Elizabeth said. "Welcome back."

"You're not going to practice your bedside manner with me, are you Elizabeth? Because I don't think my head can take it," he responded, drowsily.

Elizabeth's face softened as some of the fear left it. "No," she said with a strange and heavy level of relief coloring her tone. "I'm going to get Carson right now. But you need to stay awake. Do you think you could do that for me?"

"Sure," John said. "Not a problem." But when she left, he felt fatigue pull at him and his eyelids closed of their own accord.

"Colonel Sheppard, you must stay awake," John opened his eyes at the sound of the controlled voice and now saw Teyla perched on the bed beside his.

"What? What happened to Elizabeth?" he asked, confusedly.

"She has only gone to get the doctor. You promised to stay awake. Do you not remember?" Teyla's face mimicked the concern John had previously noticed in Elizabeth's expression.

"Yeah, yeah. I just didn't see you there, I guess." He looked around to see if any other member of his team was around. "Where's Ronan? And Rodney, for that matter? I vaguely recall he was here before."

"Ronan will return shortly. Doctor Beckett insisted that he go to the cafeteria to get something to eat. As for Doctor McKay," Teyla hesitated, and John wondered what she was being so cautious about. "He was released to his quarters an hour ago. Dr. Beckett refuses to let him back into the infirmary until he has gained at least five hours of sleep."

"Oh, I bet he was happy about that," John said with a tired smile.

Teyla laughed a bit in response. "He called Doctor Beckett a…sheep-loving quack. I did not understand the reference, but by Doctor Beckett's response I imagine it was an insult."

"Yeah, you might call it that," Sheppard said wearily. "Hey, what happened anyway? I don't remember much of anything."

Teyla seemed about to say something but turned towards the sound of two people hurrying into the room. "Ah, here is Doctor Beckett. I believe he should be the one to explain," she said matter-of-factly. "I will go and find Ronan while Doctor Beckett examines you," she then added uneasily.

"Okay," John said, perplexed. He watched her leave, and then turned expectantly towards Beckett and Elizabeth. "So, how are you guys doing?" he asked rakishly.

"I was just about to ask ye that, Colonel," Beckett said with a gentle smile.

Sheppard quickly evaluated his condition and reported to the doctor truthfully. "I feel okay. My head hurts a little, and I'm tired, but nothing too unusual."

Both Beckett and Elizabeth showed visible signs of relief at his words. "That's good," Beckett said. "Very, very good."

"Doc, how about you tell me what's going on?" John asked, now worried by Carson's reaction.

"Colonel, it's been 48 hours since you and I last had a conversation," Carson said. John wondered at the odd way in which the doctor couched his explanation and found himself more distracted by the sentence syntax than by the facts presented there.

"Why do I have the feeling that there's more to it than that?" he asked warily.

Elizabeth silently asked Carson for the floor, and the doctor eagerly assented with an enthusiastic nod of his head.

"John, what is the last thing that you remember?" Weir asked.

John looked from one anxious face to another while determinedly trying to access his last memory. Suddenly the fragmented recollection of a worried conversation with Rodney about the pods flashed through his head.

"McKay…." He murmured absently. He struggled excitedly to sit up but was pushed gently back down by Beckett before the EEG and other leads could be pulled out. "Rodney. Is Rodney all right?"

"Calm down, John," Elizabeth insisted in a quiet voice. "Rodney's okay. It's you we're worried about."

John stared at her, and it took him a moment to recall that Teyla had just informed him that Rodney had been sent back to his quarters. Surely Beckett wouldn't have forced him out of the infirmary if there were anything wrong. "Oh, okay," he said in an oddly calm voice. He settled back against the thin mattress of the infirmary bed and closed his eyes.

"Colonel Sheppard, do ye remember anythin' else after talkin' to Rodney? Anythin' at all?" Beckett's voice pervaded the fog that was steadily building in John's head, and he opened his eyes in response.

He drew a blank and shook his head negatively. "Why? Is there something I should know? I thought I've been unconscious for the past 48 hours."

Beckett sighed. "No, Colonel. Ye've been uncommunicative for the past 48 hours," he clarified. "Your brain waves are all over the place. Delta and theta waves are being produced when you're conscious, and alpha and beta when ye'r genuinely unconscious."

"So I take it that's bad," John said hesitantly.

"Aye. Your brain waves are reversed. Alpha and beta waves should be produced only when y'er conscious. Yers are bein' produced when y'er unconscious." Beckett hesitated as if weighing how much information he felt Sheppard could handle. The doctor sighed and seemed to come to some decision. "It's a sign of brain damage, but…" he finally said. John felt his head abruptly clear and heard his heart monitor speed up involuntarily at the information.

"What? How? _Brain damage?_ I feel fine!" he sputtered, alarmed.

"Calm down, son. It's all right. The CAT scan shows that even though yer brain waves are outta whack, all of the centers of yer brain seem to be firin' appropriately. Basically, everythin' organic is intact, and it's only yer brain chemistry and patterns that are abnormal."

John felt his breathing even out as he considered the doctor's words. "Well, what else could be going on?" he asked uneasily. Elizabeth moved closer to his side when she sensed the frustration emanating off of him.

"Well, in addition to the discrepancies we've observed between yer normal brain chemistry and patterns and yer current state, ye've been experiencin' seizures."

"Well that doesn't sound good either," John muttered dejectedly.

"Aye, it's a problem," Beckett agreed. "Yer brain waves seem to regain a relatively normal state after each seizure, but they generally degrade a few hours afterwards. Ye've been experiencing cycles of, well, for lack of a better word, catatonia followed by the seizures and then genuine unconsciousness. Unfortunately, the seizures have become progressively longer and stronger, so we were forced to put ye on anti-seizure medications before ye actually did accrue brain damage." Beckett hesitated yet again, and John braced himself for the next bout of information. "I've also started administerin' a low dose of anti-psychotic to help maintain a relatively normal brain chemistry. It's been all out of whack, and…."

"_Anti-psychotics!_ I'm crazy now, too?" John felt his heart lurch again at the news.

Elizabeth stroked his shoulder in an effort to offer some comfort, but John could not bring himself to accept it. What the hell had happened to him?

"It's okay, Colonel," Beckett insisted. "It's only temporary until we find out what's really going on. And it's workin', too. Shortly after administratin' the medications, ye became conscious for the first time in two days."

Sheppard was skeptical and closed his eyes against the facts that had been relayed to him. "What caused this?" he asked while pushing back despair that had suddenly threatened to overwhelm him.

"We're not sure, John," Elizabeth said while stubbornly continuing to offer tactile support. "We think it has something to do with the pods. After studying your EEG, Rodney noticed that your brain patterns were identical to those you produced when you were in the pod."

"But Rodney's okay, right?"

"Yes. Since the Aurora has been destroyed, there is no real way of determining why you were affected and he wasn't. It could have something to do with the length of time you were in there, or the fact that you were stunned while in the alternate reality, or…."

"Or that a Wraith was in there manipulating the program the whole time I was in there," John interrupted Elizabeth's explanation.

"Yes, that's right," Elizabeth concurred softly.

"Ye need to rest now, Colonel," Beckett suddenly interjected when he noticed John's unhealthy pallor become grayer with the exhaustion he felt. "Dinna worry. We just need time to figure this out."

Sheppard only nodded and turned away from them morosely. He closed his eyes and was asleep in moments.

Both Elizabeth and Carson moved out of earshot of Sheppard and eyed him warily from across the room. Elizabeth looked at Carson dejectedly. "He became so depressed so quickly," she commented.

"He's experiencin' mood swings," the doctor replied. "It's not unexpected given the nature of this illness, but it could simply be a response to the news. It's not every day that someone finds out they've started takin' anti-psychotic drugs. And someone with the character of Colonel Sheppard would take it particularly hard."

"What do we do now?"

"I'm not sure. I'm going to keep a close eye on him until this clears up. He seems stable now, and if his EEG remains normal, I'd say with some confidence that the medications are resulting in an improvement."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open at Beckett's comment. "But Carson," she said forcefully. "I need him the way he was, not drugged to the gills on anti-psychotics and anti-seizure medication. He'll be sent back to Earth if that's the case."

Beckett studied her astonished face and felt his own wave of depression crest. "Aye, lass. That's all true. But right now those medications are the only things standin' between his sanity and the total shut down of his brain. I'll do my best to wean him off the medications after he's stabilized further, but ye need to be prepared in the event that this becomes a permanent condition for the Colonel."

"That can't happen," the Atlantis leader stated. "It won't happen," she added with more force behind her words.

"I won't let it happen if it's within my power," Carson assured and then returned to Sheppard's side to study the newest EEG data.

Elizabeth could not help but think that the doctor's response was anything but satisfying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi All!**

**Just another short section…it's all I had time to put together. I'm hoping to add more tomorrow, though!**

**Thanks for all of the reviews! Titan5, you know your stories are my inspiration for this fic, right? **

**Emrys**

Iron String – Part 3

Rodney looked up from his laptop and studied John's face for any sign of awakening. By all accounts, the man had fallen into a peaceful and normal sleep hours before Rodney had been allowed admittance back into the infirmary by their over-protective Chief Medical Officer.

Rodney had been heartened to hear that Sheppard had been cognizant enough to recognize his surroundings and to interact with the people around him. After sitting in the bed beside the Colonel for two days, strapped up to his own EEG monitor, Rodney had become increasingly despairing of Sheppard ever regaining any part of himself. The endless hours of the Colonel staring vacuously into space followed by increasing muscle spasms and then the stomach churning, full-blown seizures had been enough to cause Rodney to wonder if the man he considered his best friend was beyond saving.

The chronic guilt he had been feeling ever since this debacle had begun became suddenly acute, and Rodney fought for composure. He retained no illusions about what and, more importantly, who had caused Sheppard's condition. McKay had been unable to stop berating himself and his impetuous, sanctimonious, know-it-all behavior ever since he had glimpsed the Colonel's EEG readings and recognized them as being identical to those that had been created while Sheppard was in the pod.

This illness and its end result, whatever that may be for John Sheppard, were entirely his fault, and nothing anyone said could ever pardon that so obvious fact. In fact, Rodney could not help but think that nothing would ever be the same for him again. If he could so easily place his best friend in such jeopardy as he had obliviously done with both the Ancient weapon that had devastated a solar system and then with the Aurora's virtual environment pods, then maybe he wasn't really the genius he thought he was. Maybe he needed to reconsider his position in Atlantis. Maybe….

"Rodney?" Sheppard's voice was little more than a croaked whisper, but McKay responded to it as if it were a bullhorn that had gone off directly behind him. Leaping to his feet, he shook off his thoughts and moved closer to John's side.

"Colonel! You're awake," Rodney's words were accompanied by an uneasy smile.

"Looks that way, I guess," Sheppard closed his eyes briefly and Rodney had a moment to observe the sick man's pallid features. Again, guilt flared violently within him as he realized that the appearance of tightness and fragility had overcome Sheppard's normally relaxed and strong features.

"Where's everybody?" John muttered and then opened his eyes wearily.

"It's…well, it's late," Rodney stammered as the guilt practically stole his breath from him. John studied him with a piercing gaze, and Rodney forced himself into some semblance of composure. "Beckett sent everyone away to get some rest. You know, I think that man has a Napoleon complex. I've never seen anyone throw around so many orders in one thickly accented barrage in all my life! I mean, he's even got you beat. The gall of the man! I think it comes from the knowledge that he's got all of the needles he needs to throw a coup that will shake the very foundations of the management infrastructure here in…."

"McKay, please! You're giving me a headache!" John begged. He squinted against the dim infirmary lights and made another examination of Rodney's face. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be sleeping too?"

"Well, that's gratitude for you!" Rodney snapped, unexpectedly. "Try to show some concern for a team-mate, for a fellow intergalactic explorer, and what does he do? He gets annoyed and sends you to your room. Next thing you know, I'll have my privileges taken away from me." Rodney's tone had turned acerbic, but Sheppard ignored it and instead continued to scrutinize his friend's face intently. "Like I said before, Colonel, I already have a mother," Rodney continued. "I don't need you telling me when I should be sleeping or eating for that matter. Beckett does enough of that already, and…just what in the hell are you looking at anyway?" Rodney's tirade became a sputter of indignant offense as he realized that Sheppard had continued to stare equably in response to the acidic words.

"Rodney," Sheppard said with a deep sigh, "what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" McKay echoed bitterly. "Why nothing's wrong. Except for the fact that you're lying in a hospital bed with your brain slowly turning you into a psychotic gork, and it's all my fault."

Sheppard winced at both the implications of the words and the twisted hopelessness of the tone. A wave of dizziness assailed him, and he felt the blood rush from his face in response to the strong emotion that suddenly flared within.

"McKay…." He only wanted to verbally assault Rodney for being so unfair on entirely too many levels, but suddenly his headache reached a pinnacle. The strength of his response left him breathing heavily with the pain and struggling to regain control.

Rodney took one look at the trembling and wan figure before him, and all of his self-recrimination momentarily fled in the wake of the fear he felt.

"God. I'm going to get Beckett. Just…just stay there. Hang on, and I'll be right back," Rodney assured. But before he could even turn to leave, John had grabbed him by his wrist.

"Rodney, wait," Sheppard's breathy words halted Rodney in his tracks, and he found himself waiting in what felt like an eye of a storm while the sick man fought to compose himself.

"Sit down," Sheppard finally instructed when he got his breath back.

"Colonel, I really rather think the smart thing to do right now is to fetch Carson. He may be a quack, but he's the closest thing to a real doctor that we have here," Rodney said cavalierly in an attempt to deflect attention from himself.

"Jesus, McKay! Can't you just do as I say for once? Why do you always have to make things so difficult?"

Rodney stared momentarily at the tired man and then slumped with defeat into the chair. "Just my nature, I suppose," he answered dejectedly.

"It was a rhetorical question, Rodney," John ground out. Rodney slouched a bit further in the chair, and John let out a frustrated sigh. "Listen McKay, I'm only going to say this once. My condition is _not_ your fault."

Rodney let out an incredulous bark and shook his head ruefully. "How can you say that?" he asked. "It was my idea to enter the pods. My idea to interact with the Aurora's crew. My assessment that the technology was safe. And now it turns out that the equipment was just as dangerous to you as that Ancient weapon that backfired oh so wonderfully due to my poor judgment. I let you down again, and now you're telling me that it wasn't my fault?"

"It was different this time, Rodney. This wasn't the same situation," Sheppard's voice was insistent.

"How? Tell me that, Colonel. How has this situation turned out any differently? Tell me that, and maybe I'll believe you when you say this wasn't my fault." Rodney's voice was tainted with anger, and he could barely bring himself to look at Sheppard.

"Rodney, it's different," Sheppard persisted. "It's dif…different be…cause…." McKay looked up with alarm as Sheppard's voice became dull and wasted.

"Colonel?" he asked as he studied his friend's face. Sheppard's eyelids had half-closed, and the little part of eye that could be observed under the heavy lashes was dull and lifeless.

Rodney shook the suddenly still man's shoulder and received no response for his efforts. "John?" he asked tensely and with increasing fear.

But John's brain had apparently rebelled against consciousness again, and as his heart settled into the slow but steady rhythm that indicated he had fallen into another stupor, Rodney rushed from the bedside and called frantically for Beckett.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. I'm still fighting this bug. You know it's bad when you'd rather go to bed than stay up and read fic! Ha!

Thanks to Titan5 for all of your encouraging words! And, just a note, despite what you say, I'm actually not entirely convinced that you don't have a private masseuse at your disposal there!

**And to everyone else, thanks for all of the reviews! They keep my eyes open long enough to continue writing!**

**Emrys**

**Iron String – Part 4**

This time when he regained consciousness, he did not even have the strength to roll over. Instead, he remained on his side, blinking hazily and feeling weighted down and uncomfortable.

"Hey there, laddie. It's about time. Give yer'self a minute. Ye're bound ta be a wee bit groggy now."

After a moment, John's eyes focused, and he was able to see Beckett crouched down in his line of vision. Dark circles etched the spaces beneath the doctor's eyes, and exhaustion was plain in every line of Beckett's face. Sheppard closed his own eyes in response to the evidence of worry and fatigue of which he knew he had been the cause. He made an attempt to vocalize his concern, but all he accomplished was to emit a hash, rasping sound.

"Don't talk yet, Colonel. Yer mouth is bound to be dry. Let's get ye a drink before attemptin' a conversation."

As he spoke, Beckett positioned John so that he was lying on his back and then moved the head of the infirmary bed up to a semi-reclining position. Sheppard closed his eyes against the dizzying movements and felt his stomach roil with the vertigo he was experiencing.

"Just take it easy, son. Ye've had a difficult go of it."

John felt Beckett's hand clasp his wrist to monitor his pulse manually, and the comfort of the familiar touch helped him to ground himself. After a while he was able to even out his breathing and feel relief that his stomach had reaffixed itself to its rightful place in his body cavity.

Beckett maintained his grasp on John's wrist until the sick man was able to reopen his eyes. He then waited for Sheppard's expression to clear before offering him an ice chip.

"Ye ready fer one of these then, son?" Carson asked kindly. Sheppard did not dare nod in assent because he feared that if he moved his head the dizziness would return. Instead, he offered Beckett a weak smile and opened his mouth to gratefully receive the blessed coolness of the frozen water.

After he felt the dryness in his mouth recede, John made a second attempt to voice his concerns.

"How…long?"

Apparently he managed to convey his question despite the fact that it was expressed with a voice that was barely above a whisper because Beckett's face clouded over in response. The doctor's brow furrowed, and the exhaustion that John had observed before became even more pronounced.

"It's been four days this time, son," Beckett said gently. John felt his heart beat harder at the news, and Carson placed a steadying hand on his patient's shoulder as the man fought for control.

Four days! Four days of his life gone. Over half a week had fled past him while he had been sleeping, and now that he was awake, he was keenly aware that he had no power over when he would disappear again. And John had no doubt that he would eventually disappear again because by the look on Beckett's face, there was no reason to believe that he had found the cure for whatever this was yet.

"What now?" he whispered when he managed to regain a modicum of control.

"Well, I've upped the dose of the anti-psychotic, and it seems that ye're respondin' to it, at least fer now. I'm not sure how long the medications are goin' to work fer ye though, because it seems as if yer response to them is diminishin'," Beckett stopped when John's face contorted with anxiety and strengthened his grasp on Sheppard's shoulder. "It's alright, laddie," Carson assured. "Rodney and I have an idea of what's goin' on now. Ye're still in a bad way, but with yer permission we want to try somethin'."

John's fear became manageable as Carson continued to soothe him, but Beckett's optimistic words were joined with an expression so somber that he knew that his condition remained dodgy at best.

"What aren't…you telling me?" John asked while eying the doctor warily.

"Colonel, yer seizures stopped shortly after ye lost consciousness this last time," Carson stated calmly.

"That's good, isn't it?" John asked, perplexed.

Carson heaved a heavy sigh.

"Actually, no. As it turns out, that's a very bad thing," he stated.

"I don't understand."

"Colonel, Rodney and I took a closer look at the EEG data that were collected when ye used the pods on the Aurora. What we discovered was that the pod initiated electrical excitation in both Rodney's and yer brains every time ye pulled yerselves out of the virtual environment. The effect was short-lived and weak, but it was basically the equivalent of a small seizure."

"I still don't understand," John stated, miserably. A wave of dizziness washed over him again, and he clasped the bed sheets desperately.

Beckett watched as the man visibly paled, and he moved forward to wipe off the sweat that had appeared on Sheppard's brow. Eventually John's distress diminished, but Beckett sustained the gentle stroking of his face and forehead. He waited until he thought Sheppard was asleep again and then put the cloth away and pulled up the chair that Rodney had brought into the infirmary a week ago. Feeling exhaustion overwhelm him, he closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. It had been a very rough four days for all of them, especially Rodney who continued to blame himself for Sheppard's condition.

Beckett lifted his head and turned around to look at Rodney who was lying on one of the other infirmary beds. To his relief, McKay had remained asleep throughout his conversation with the Colonel.

Four days ago, the physicist had flatly refused to leave the infirmary, and Carson had been forced to comply with the stubborn man's wishes. Rodney had basically set up shop in the infirmary and had left only on the rare occasion that Zelenka had been unable to carry out his directions. It had been a struggle getting the man to eat, and surprisingly, Rodney only responded to Ronan's demands that he consume at least the bare minimum of food. Beckett had been becoming worried that McKay's hypoglycemia would become an issue until Ronan had come into the infirmary with a tray laden with all of Rodney's favorites. The big man had marched purposefully into the room and roughly shoved the tray into the physicist's hands. After issuing a one word order to eat, Dex had then sat on another chair to watch over both Sheppard and McKay. It had then only been a matter of Ronan glaring furiously at Rodney to motivate the physicist into eating enough food to satisfy Beckett's concerns.

But throughout the four days, Rodney had maintained a careful watch over Sheppard that was painful to see. Even when he was working on some complicated problem, Rodney had sustained the steady stream of a one-sided conversation with the Colonel. The litany of quiet assurances and desperate words had been upsetting to Carson since Sheppard had appeared to hear none of them. The Colonel had been locked away within the prison of his own mind, and his condition was slowly tearing apart the man who felt responsible for it.

Rodney's guilt had begun to affect his ability to sleep, until Beckett had finally had enough and had administered a sleeping aid. Thankfully, the man was still sleeping, albeit restlessly.

"Still don't understand."

The drowsy voice drew Beckett's attention back to his patient, and he turned abruptly away from Rodney's direction.

"Ye should sleep a bit, son," he admonished gently.

"Explain first," Sheppard insisted.

"Alright then," Carson said reluctantly. "But then ye need yer sleep."

"Yessir," Sheppard muttered. He had the sudden feeling of being a child treated to a bedtime story. Only problem was, he wasn't entirely sure that this story would have a happy ending.

"We think that the electrical excitation that was stimulated in yer brain by the pod was a way of, well, for lack of a better word, resettin' yer brain fer reality again. Fer some reason, yer brain was not reset on several occasions of ye takin' yerself out of the pod. We think it has somethin' to do with ye bein' knocked unconscious because that's when the reset stopped happenin'. Of course we can't be entirely sure. It may just have been a malfunction of the pod."

"Doesn't matter, right?" Sheppard mumbled while struggling to keep his eyes open.

"No, I don't think so. What's important is that we know that the reset did not occur on several occasions. Both Rodney and I agree that the seizures ye've been experiencin' are yer brain's way of attemptin' its own reset. Unfortunately, they've been unsuccessful at reestablishing normal functioning. We're not sure, but we believe this has somethin' to do with the strength of the seizures and the frequency of them."

"Thought I just needed a…little zap," Sheppard replied.

"Well, ye're right, the pods only stimulated a small electrical response in yer brain. But given the increasin' length and frequency of yer catatonic episodes, I think that the more time between experiencin' the virtual environment and receivin' the restart, the harder it is to reestablish normal functionin'. Basically, yer brain is no longer able to produce a sufficient number of strong seizures to reset yer neurological operations."

"How strong…need to be?" John asked. Fear again took a firm hold, but his exhaustion seemed to be counteracting any physical response he may have to it. No longer being able to keep his eyes open, he closed them and allowed himself to relax into the mattress of the bed.

"Ye need to rest now, son. We'll talk about it again when ye wake up," Carson assured.

"Will I?" John mumbled in a barely audible voice.

"Will ye what, son?"

"Will I…wake up?" The question was whispered on an exhaled breath and then John was asleep before he could hear Carson's desolate answer.

"Aye. One way or the other, ye'll wake up. I promise ye that, laddie."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: There is a reference to the episode, "38 Minutes" in this part of the story!**

"It sounds barbaric," Elizabeth stated. Everything about her body language screamed that she was affronted by the suggestion Carson had made. She looked towards Rodney and was dismayed to see him slouched in his regular conference room chair with his head in his hands.

"Aye," Carson said, reluctantly. "On many levels it is barbaric. I'd never normally make the suggestion, but I dinna believe we have a choice."

Elizabeth's lips pressed tightly together, and she seemed to remain unconvinced.

"Oh for god's sake!" Rodney snapped, impatiently. He lifted his head out of his hands, and Elizabeth was alarmed by the naked agony she saw in his eyes. "It's not as if we're trying to kill him like we did when the Wraith tic had its hold on him," he said harshly. He noticed both Carson and Weir flinching involuntarily at that memory, and he settled his head back into his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled but no less bitter. "It's just that you agreed to killing him in order to get the Wraith tic off of him. I just don't see how this is any worse."

Silently, Elizabeth agreed, but she could not help but be repulsed by their suggested course of action.

"There's no other way, Carson?" she asked him in one last attempt to encourage them to come up with a different idea. She heard Rodney's frustrated growl at her question and noted that his hands had clenched around his head, but she ignored his outburst.

"Elizabeth, I wouldn't be proposin' this plan if I dinna have the idea it would work. The anti-psychotics are just not stabilizing him anymore, and I dinna know how much longer his body is goin' to be able to handle the neurological distress. And even though it's true that the procedure hasn't been used in quite some time, it has been proven to be quite successful for dealing with psychiatric conditions in the past," Carson supplied in an attempt to soothe Elizabeth's doubts.

"But we're not talking about a psychiatric condition," Elizabeth persisted.

"No, no we're not. But in the past the procedure has been used to, well, basically restart the brain. That's exactly what we're plannin' on doin' for Colonel Sheppard. Elizabeth, he just can't remain the way he is. And ye know that. Colonel Sheppard would rather die than spend the remainda of his life in a…as a…." Carson faltered over his next words.

"Psychotic gork?" McKay offered, acrimoniously.

Beckett glared at the physicist, but his gaze softened when Rodney lifted his head from his hands again, allowing Carson to see just how tired, defeated and remorseful the man's pained expression was.

"I was goin' to say in a vegetative state, Rodney," Carson said softly.

"Ah. Well. Yes," Rodney muttered, obviously upset.

Watching the agonizing interaction between the two men, Elizabeth suddenly realized that if there were any other choices for them, they would have suggested them first. The course of action that both scientists approved of was desperate simply because the situation was desperate.

"Okay," she said firmly. She smiled briefly when she saw Carson relax and slump into his seat. The doctor had been bristling with assertiveness only moments before when protecting his patient with a bulldog's stubbornness. His deflation was telling of the fact that he truly did not want to subject John to the treatment that he had suggested.

"The medications should be able to maintain the Colonel's consciousness long enough for me to explain the situation to him. I wouldn't want to perform this procedure without giving him some information first," Carson said, and Elizabeth suddenly understood why both men had insisted on an immediate decision.

"Alright," Elizabeth said. "Just let me know if you need anything."

Both Carson and Weir startled when Rodney gave a brief, sarcastic bark of laughter. He muttered something just under his breath, but Elizabeth thought she made out the painful words.

"A miracle would be nice."

888

Watching the sleeping figure of Colonel Sheppard, Carson thought on the conversation he and Rodney had had with Weir and sighed heavily. John looked wasted and ill, and Carson just did not want to wake him to discuss the contentious treatment.

He took a deep, steadying breath, and then reached over to gently shake the Colonel awake. He didn't dare wait until Sheppard woke on his own for fear that the efficacy of the anti-psychotics would wane before he had a chance to have this dreaded discussion with his patient.

Sheppard didn't immediately respond to the attempts to wake him until Carson shook the man's shoulder more insistently. Then John's eyes began blinking slowly, and Beckett gave him some time to gain his bearings before initiating a conversation.

"How are ye feelin', Colonel?"

"Mmmm…tired," John reported wearily. He closed his eyes, but Beckett shook his shoulder again to keep him conscious.

"Ye need to stay awake fer a bit," Carson said apologetically when John opened his eyes again.

"'Kay," Sheppard responded agreeably while blearily attempting to maintain eye contact with the doctor. "What's…goin' on?" he asked. John's eyes closed again, and Beckett realized that the man was experiencing pain.

"What's hurtin' ye, Colonel?" Carson asked, immediately alarmed. There was only a limited number of pain-relievers that Sheppard could tolerate in combination with the high dose of anti-psychotic that he was on, but if the man was experiencing pain Carson wanted to relieve it as best as possible.

"Head," John replied on the exhalation of a breath. He closed his eyes and pressed his head further into the pillow in an attempt to remove himself from the pain.

Carson immediately dimmed the lights and placed a warm compress on the Colonel's forehead. He then obtained a syringe, filled it with the appropriate medicine and injected the contents into John's I.V. port. He monitored his patient's vital signs until the man's breathing eased and he visibly relaxed.

"Better?" Beckett asked.

"Better," John breathed. He opened his eyes and Beckett saw gratitude and relief there.

"Do ye feel well enough to have a little talk with me, Colonel?"

"Sure. What's goin' on?" Sheppard repeated his previous question.

"Well," Carson began reluctantly. "Well, Rodney and I have an idea about how to treat this."

Now that the pain had retreated, Sheppard's gaze had become clear and perceptive. Carson shifted uncomfortably under the force of the almost calculating look he was receiving from the Colonel.

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this?" he asked sharply.

"Probably because ye won't," Carson answered shakily and smiled gently before pressing on. "Colonel, I want to initiate a grand mal seizure within your brain while you're in an insulin induced coma," he said bluntly and waited apprehensively for Sheppard's response.

Sheppard closed his eyes and seemed to be processing the information. When he returned his gaze to Beckett he did not look happy.

"And how exactly do you mean to do this?" he asked.

"Well, the plan is to inject you intramuscularly with insulin. You'll experience loss of consciousness thereafter, followed by coma. While in the coma, we'll electrically generate a grand mal seizure within your brain. Afterwards, you'll be given a glucose solution by gavage that will cause you to regain consciousness," Carson said.

"Electroshock?" John asked, astonished. "Just how crazy am I, Doc?"

Carson vigorously shook his head in negation as he continued to watch his patient closely. "This is not a psychiatric condition, Colonel. It's an organic one. But some organic conditions respond to psychiatric treatments, and considerin' the cause and the nature of yer illness, Rodney and I think that this procedure has the highest probability for a successful outcome."

Sheppard didn't seem entirely convinced.

"What's with the insulin treatment?"

Carson sighed. Insulin coma had not been a therapy he had wanted to perform on the Colonel. It was a primitive treatment, but given Sheppard's resistance to the anti-psychotics and the inability of his brain to reset even after several grand mal seizures, Carson didn't feel as if he had a choice in the matter.

"Colonel, it is no longer possible to perform the reset of yer brain by simply inducing' a seizure. If that were the case, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Sheppard appeared to mull over the doctor's words, and then realization settled heavily into his face. "The spontaneous seizures would have fixed me," he said, unhappily.

"Aye, Colonel. Insulin Coma Treatment was used in the '50's to treat psychiatric conditions, and it met with great success. It actually wasn't until Electro Convulsive Therapy became more common that the insulin treatment went by the wayside. I think that the shock to yer brain that the insulin will cause combined with the electrically produced seizure have a high chance for success."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed in consideration, and Carson knew that the man was perceptive enough to realize that he had offered no guarantees. Carson could not blame John for being less than pleased with the course of action he had suggested. The procedures were brutal and generally intended for deeply disturbed individuals for whom pharmaceutical treatment was ineffective. To subject a psychiatrically healthy individual to them was controversial at best, and Beckett was far from satisfied by the direction he had been forced to take.

"When?" Sheppard asked. His voice was pained and he seemed to be struggling with some inner emotion that Carson could not quite define.

"Tomorrow morning, if you agree," Beckett informed.

"Fine," John said through a jaw clenched by the strong, depressive emotion he was feeling. "I'm tired. Can I sleep now?"

Carson wanted to respond to the bleak nature of the normally jovial Colonel's voice, but there was really nothing he could say to ease the man's dark mood. Instead he patted John's shoulder in a meager offer of comfort and pulled the now-cooled compress from Sheppard's forehead.

"Aye, I think that's a good idea," he said kindly.

John closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'd give you all chocolate if it were in my power to do so! I'm in a bit of a rush, so I'll keep this bitty note…well…bitty! Take care…Emrys

Early the next morning, an exhausted Carson Beckett was sitting at his desk when he saw Rodney enter the infirmary and head towards Sheppard's bed. At the sight of the obviously distraught physicist, Carson leapt to his feet and moved hurriedly to block Rodney's forward progression.

"Oh come on, Carson! I did what you said. I've had my nice five-hour nap, and now I want to go sit with him for a while," Rodney complained while scowling at the good-intentioned doctor.

Carson took a moment to eye the other man critically. Despite his claims, McKay looked too exhausted to have actually managed any real sleep, but Beckett decided to ignore the physicist's condition for now.

"Rodney…."

"No, now listen, Carson. You're being unreasonable. The equipment is set up, and I'll bring it over at 8:00 just like you asked. I just want a little time before…." Rodney's plaintive voice hushed and then faltered.

"Rodney," Carson began again in a soothing, dulcet tone that did nothing to forestall McKay's momentum.

"Just a few minutes before we have to do this…this…procedure. Please, Carson."

Beckett reached a hand out to grasp McKay's shoulder reassuringly.

"Aye, Rodney. That's fine. I just wanted to warn you that, well, some time during the night the anti-psychotics became inadequate to maintain Colonel Sheppard's lucidity."

Rodney's face slackened with disbelief.

"What? What are you talking about? He was fine last night. Okay, maybe he wasn't a stellar conversationalist, but given what he's going through one can hardly fault him for that!" Rodney exclaimed arrogantly and then rushed past Carson to catch a glimpse of his friend.

Sighing heavily, Carson followed in Rodney to the Colonel's bedside. Sheppard was lying with his head hanging laxly to one side, and with his eyelids half-closed over his again glassy, lifeless eyes. John's hollowed features and chalky, pale skin reflected the seriousness of his illness, and even Carson found himself stifling a reaction to Sheppard's increasingly weakened appearance.

"Bring him back," Rodney muttered in such a lost tone that Carson turned his slightly alarmed attention to him.

"I can't," he replied softly. "We've tried the highest dose of medication I dare give him, and he had no response to it."

Rodney staggered and then abruptly sat in the chair next to Sheppard's bed as if the weight of Carson's news was a tangible one that he was unable to bear.

"This is my fault," Rodney whispered quietly and then hid his broken expression in his hands.

"That's just not true, Rodney, and I'm sure that the Colonel would say the same thing if he were able to right now," Carson remonstrated the distressed man.

"Well he isn't able to right now, is he?" McKay replied, caustically. He bent his head lower to shield himself from the view of the sickness he believed he had wrought on his best friend. Fresh despair overwhelmed him, and he wondered how things could ever return to what passed as normal on Atlantis.

Observing the anguished posture that Rodney displayed, Carson knew that there were no words that he could say that would alleviate the man's misguided guilt. Instead he placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder and leaned down to offer him the only direction he could.

"Rodney, why don't you stay here and keep watch over the Colonel while I prepare my end of things? Keep him company for a wee bit, right?"

Rodney slowly lifted his head to study Beckett's face, but he saw no recrimination there. Pressing hands to tired eyes, the physicist attempted to compose himself while rapidly nodding in assent.

"Yes, yes of course," he said with a tinge of characteristic confidence that Beckett knew was entirely false.

"Good man," Carson said kindly and then left the area to prepare for the day's upcoming and unwelcome events.

888

"Rodney, why don't you go and wait with the others? I'm sure that Radek wouldn't mind lending a hand," Carson suggested. Beckett was concerned by the pinched and slightly nauseous look that emanated from the physicist every time he glanced in the direction of the electric generator that he had created for the purpose of inducing a seizure in Sheppard.

"I'm doing it," Rodney immediately responded in a quiet, slightly waspish tone.

"Rodney, this won't be pretty, and I know how close you are to the Colonel. I'm just trying to spare you some pain," Carson said gently.

"I'm well aware of the difficulties involved," Rodney snapped. "Let's just get on with it."

Carson studied the stubborn position of McKay's jaw, the straight-backed way he was carrying himself, and the resolution that burned deeply in the man's eyes. All were patent indicators of Rodney's determination to see this terrible thing through, and Beckett knew that any further suggestions that he made to the contrary would just be a waste of breath.

"Alright then, Rodney," Carson said and then gave his nurse a meaningful look. She handed the doctor a syringe filled with insulin and then double-checked the soft restraints that were holding Sheppard.

"Everything ready then?" Carson queried the nurse. She simply nodded and moved aside so that Beckett could administer the insulin into John's I.V. port. "It will be approximately two hours before he falls into a coma, Rodney," Carson instructed as he slowly depressed the plunger on the syringe in order to expel the drug. "Once he reaches a comatose state, we'll be able to electrically generate the seizure," Beckett worked steadily as he spoke, the only outward indication of his anxiety being the almost undetectable thickening of his brogue and a quickened tempo to his speech.

"Yes, yes, I know that," Rodney said dismissively. Contrary to Beckett's contained demeanor, Rodney appeared nervous and shaky as he watched the contents of the syringe plummet down the I.V. line. He impatiently shifted from one foot to another as he wiped beads of sweat from his brow with hands that were visibly shaking.

Beckett removed the now empty syringe from Sheppard's I.V. port and smiled kindly at Rodney. After discarding the syringe in a biohazard box, he walked up to McKay and again steered him to the ever-present chair that was at John's bedside.

"Why don't you try and relax for a bit, Rodney," Beckett suggested as he gently pushed the man into the chair. "We'll have a bit of a wait."

Rodney sat gratefully and then took a moment to study Beckett's face.

"How can you be so calm?" he asked the doctor irritably.

Carson barked out a short, bitter laugh before shrugging fatalistically. "Looks can be deceiving, Rodney. Make no mistake about it, I'm a wee bit twitchy," he said and then moved away to monitor his patient.

Rodney wiped his hand over his dissatisfied expression and settled in to wait until it was time to play his part in this awful drama

888

An hour and a forty-five minutes later, Rodney was positively overwrought. Beckett had explained to him in great detail the expected effects of the insulin treatment, but somehow talking about side effects was vastly different from watching Sheppard experience them. When Beckett had first dispensed the insulin to John, the sick man had still been in a catatonic state. But twenty minutes into the ordeal, he had begun muttering stuttered, incomprehensible words and fighting against the restraints that tied his arms, torso and legs. An hour into it, both the words and the fight dissipated to be replaced with sweating so profuse that McKay had started to become seriously concerned.

"Shouldn't we clean him up?" Rodney had asked Beckett in a voice that conveyed his anxieties.

"It's alright, Rodney," Beckett had assured while hastily replacing one of Sheppard's I.V. bags with fresh fluids. "It's a normal response to the level of insulin he's been given. And there's no sense cleaning him up, because he'll only continue to sweat through everything. It's better to wait until this is over."

Rodney had nodded, reassured by Beckett's apparent knowledge of the procedure. But now, as Sheppard's breathing became stertorous, and he began to show increasingly strong muscle spasms, Rodney's worry had risen again. He had not believed it was possible for his friend to look any sicker, but that fantasy had quickly been dispelled as John continued to spiral closer towards a comatose state.

Rodney sighed and shifted his attention to Carson in order to ascertain some understanding of John's condition from the doctor's body language. Beckett was tense as he leaned over his patient and monitored the man's depth of consciousness. When he finally straightened, Carson turned to Rodney who had continued to look on with expectant dread.

"Alright, Rodney. It's time. Why don't you get that thing charged up?" Beckett asked, grimly.

Rodney nodded, stood, and moved over towards the machine he had built. When he and Beckett had first begun tossing around the idea of electrically dosing Sheppard, it had become clear that neither physician nor physicist possessed the gear that would generate a charge safe enough for the procedure. Before traveling to Atlantis, Carson had never considered bringing the sort of equipment that their needs required, because he knew that he would be dealing with a crew that consisted of mentally stable stuff. His only recommendations had been to bring along a psychotherapist to deal with the cases of post-traumatic stress syndrome that would inevitably arise from their stressful circumstances, as well as a variety of pharmaceuticals….just in case. Never had he imagined that he would have to administer electro convulsive therapy to a patient.

And so Rodney had set about manipulating equipment that he had in his possession so that they would have an electrical source that could meet their necessary requirements. The machine had not taken as long to fashion as he had expected, and when he had finished, both he and Beckett had been satisfied with the results.

Now looking down at the ghastly device and knowing that he was about to use it to shock his best friend's brain, McKay could not help but feel sick at the sight of his invention. He knew that, given all of the unknowns surrounding Sheppard's condition, there was a decent chance that the side effects of the electro convulsive therapy could be debilitating. And McKay did not think that Sheppard would thank him for possibly causing, among other things, large chunks of memory to be erased.

But looking down at the man, Rodney knew that they had no choice but to follow through with their plan. There was no way that Sheppard would care to live life as a vegetable, and if losing a few bits of memory was the price to pay for bringing the man most of the way back to himself, Rodney was sure that John would happily fork over the brain cells.

Rodney's hands shook as he turned on the machine to allow it to charge. The thought of losing any part of his memory was so entirely repulsive to him, and he cast another desperate glance at Sheppard. What if there was some other way? What if they had misinterpreted the situation? What if he was about to cause more damage than he had already done?

Rodney did not think that he could handle any more guilt, and his thoughts were confirmed when another wave of remorse strongly washed over him and left him sickened in its wake. He found his hand wavering over the off toggle switch when Beckett beckoned him softly with his voice.

"Come on now, Rodney. There's no other choice," Carson insisted. He watched as Rodney struggled with his guilt and fear and forced his expression into one of confidence. It didn't matter that he also had his doubts about the procedure. Right now, he just wanted to reassure Rodney who had been wrangling with demons ever since this nightmare had begun. The man looked exhausted and wrung out, and he still had a long way to go before the end.

"Are you sure about that?" McKay asked in an awful voice that was so uncharacteristic of him. Beckett felt a rush of sympathy and pushed his own doubts and fears aside so that he could be of better use in alleviating some of Rodney's pain.

"Aye," he said, and the lie came easier than he had expected.

Rodney nodded and reached for the electrodes.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews! They make writing this story so much FUN!

**Just for clarification…I'm not a doctor, neurologist, or brain surgeon. I've done a bit of research, but I'm sure that I'm making mistakes! Please don't flame me for them!**

Iron String – Part 7 

"I scrambled his brain, didn't I?"

"Now Rodney, there's no indication…."

"No indication! How much of an indication do you need? He's been unconscious for three days!"

"Yes, it's a mite troubling that he's not awake yet, but that doesn't mean you scrambled his brain."

"Oh no? What do you call it then when you turn a switch that shoves a stream of electrons into your best friend's brain? I don't know about your dictionary, but scrambling comes close in mine!"

Carson and Rodney had been going around like this for several minutes, and John was aware of every word. He wasn't quite clear about what was going on, but he intended on finding out as soon as possible. The only problem was that his eyelids seemed to be weighted down by something immovable, and lying about with eyes closed was generally not an effective way of gathering intel of the sort he needed right now.

"Rodney, you need to calm down. You're not doing anyone a bit of good by continuing to lay all of the blame on your shoulders. For all we know, it could have been the insulin that caused this. And besides, I'm the chief medical officer. If anyone is going to take the blame for Colonel Sheppard's present condition, it's going to be me."

Rodney gave a cynical bark that disturbed Sheppard to the point where he was almost able to open his eyes. Unfortunately, his efforts remained unsuccessful, and he had to settle on simply listening to McKay's response.

"You know as well as I do that the Colonel never would have had to undergo either of those procedures if it wasn't for…."

"Shhhh!"

"What? Why? You know it's true. This is all my…."

"Rodney, are you daft? Quiet down! I think the Colonel's conscious!"

"Really? How can you tell? He looks the same to me." Sheppard could almost picture the quizzical look on Rodney's face.

"The heart monitor, Rodney. It's sped up a bit," Carson's voice was a mixture of anticipation and irritation that John would have laughed at if he had the strength. "Colonel? Can you hear me? You need to open your eyes now."

A stern hand clasped John's shoulder, and he again struggled to open his eyes. The task seemed beyond him until the hand unexpectedly shook his arm. The surprise he felt presented him the power to lift his eyelids until a crack of bright light swam painfully in his vision.

His eyes immediately snapped shut, and he attempted to move himself away from the perceived source of the light. Groaning weakly, he only managed to shift himself minutely. The dizziness that assaulted him was a nauseating indication of the fact that it might not actually be a good idea to open his eyes, and so he tried hard to drift back into the darkness where nothing and no one could bother him.

He had almost managed to float completely away when the hand shook him again. Its insistent tug pulled him out of the grayness that he had wandered into and forced his eyes open again. This time, thankfully, the light wasn't blinding, and he was able to blink heavily until his vision cleared well enough to recognize the blurred face wavering in front of him.

"Carson?" His voice was nothing more than an ineffectual gasp, but the face burst into a wide grin nevertheless.

"Aye, Colonel. You had us a wee bit worried there. It's about time you woke up."

"What happened?" Sheppard really wished that there were more power to his voice, because this was just damned pathetic.

"Well, for starters…." Rodney's voice rang out from somewhere just out of John's line of vision, and he tried to move his head to catch sight of the man. Much to his dismay, he could not manage this small task.

Meanwhile, Carson must have quieted Rodney with a furtive glance or perhaps a muttered word, because McKay had stopped speaking before he had even gotten his explanation rolling. To top it off, Beckett was now gazing at John with something that looked suspiciously like concern.

"Why don't you tell us what you remember, Colonel," Beckett asked the question nonchalantly, but for some reason John got the impression that there was a lot riding on the answer he gave the man.

He knew that he should concentrate and answer the question, but he was too distracted by his immobility to respond.

"Why can't I move?" he asked, tiredly. Against his volition, his eyes began to slip closed. Carson's hand shook him yet again, and he forced them back open.

"It's all right, Colonel. You're just very weak right now. Nothing that a few days in the infirmary won't fix. Now, why don't you tell us what you remember?"

Satisfied with the answer to his own question, John attempted to search for a response to Beckett's. But no matter how hard he concentrated, the reasons for this newest infirmary visit were beyond him.

"I don't know," he gave the only answer he could and then looked expectantly at Beckett.

"What is the last thing you remember then?" Beckett asked.

It took a moment, but then John remembered. He wished that he could see Rodney's face, because the memory he had recalled detailed a particularly sweet triumph over the self-proclaimed genius.

"I beat Rodney at chess," he said weakly but with a faint smile.

A loud noise came from where he knew McKay was standing, and it's sudden occurrence startled John just enough so that he was able to turn and see the physicist. McKay had apparently fallen heavily into the seat of a chair, because he sat there slightly askew and with a stricken look on his face that alarmed John.

"Three months. That was three months ago!" Rodney's tormented words were directed at Beckett, but they made John's heart hammer wildly in his chest.

888

"He has no memory of any of the events that have occurred after the chess game he won with Rodney. There are scattered traces of long-term memory loss, but nothing significant."

Sitting in the quiet of her office with the doctor, the distressing nature of the words caused Elizabeth to contemplate Carson's often-overlooked abilities. Like Rodney, the people of the Atlantis expedition often expected Carson to perform feats of medical magic that would have been beyond any other doctor. Up to this point, his successes in performing these miracles had vastly outweighed his failures. Elizabeth just hoped that Beckett's record stayed intact after this latest development with Colonel Sheppard.

"What does this mean?" she asked the doctor.

"Well, I don't think the memory loss will interfere with his duties. His ability to build and maintain new memories is intact, and although I consider the memory loss significant, I think the Colonel will be able to catch up on everything he's missing by reading through mission reports."

Elizabeth breathed an audible sigh of relief and felt something in her chest loosen at the doctor's words.

"And what about his condition otherwise?" she managed to ask after a while.

"Well, the good news is that his brain wave patterns have reestablished a normal configuration. I'm mostly concerned about his emotional status right now."

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth asked with evident concern.

"His emotions are all over the place, Elizabeth. He's been quick to anger, and the fact that he couldn't remember the name of his childhood dog practically had him in tears. I consider this behavior to be uncharacteristic of the Colonel."

Elizabeth's face tightened with worry, and she had to agree with Beckett's assessment. John was notorious for his agreeable personality even under the direst of circumstances.

"What do you think is causing this?"

"Well, it could simply be that it's taking longer for his brain chemistry to reestablish itself than it did his brain waves. I'm waiting for the chemistry results from another set of blood tests before I make any real conclusions. Until then, we're all just trying to keep the Colonel as comfortable as possible."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed further with the worry she was feeling, but she forced herself to straighten behind her desk and to eye Carson with resolve.

"What is the worst case scenario, Doctor?" she asked with complete seriousness.

Carson responded by sighing heavily and rubbing a hand over his tired expression. He hated this question.

"Well, I honestly don't believe that the memory loss will cause any long term problems. Dealing with the three month gap in his past may be disconcerting for him, but I think he'll eventually adjust to it. The minor loss to his long-term memory will also surely continue to be distressing to him, but I again believe that he will adapt to the condition. And then there's always the chance that he'll recover some, if not all of his memory over time."

Elizabeth allowed herself to lean back in her chair and consider the doctor's comments about John's memory loss. In the end she determined that the situation could have turned out considerably worse, and she nodded in satisfaction to Carson.

"All good news. But what else?" she prodded.

"Aye, well, the emotional disturbance is quite a bit of a concern to me. If it doesn't reverse within the week, I may have to consider pharmaceutical intervention or possibly even another go at the ICT/ECT procedure," Carson's face spoke grim volumes at the prospect of the latter possibility. Inwardly, he shuddered as he remembered the look of utter horror on Rodney's face and of his own sense of wrongness when the electrodes had been placed upon the Colonel's temples. For the past three days, he had been plagued by the image of Sheppard's body as it shook and twisted beneath that electrical touch. Re-living the scene through memory was bad enough; the thought of repeating it for real was almost too much to bear.

"I see," Elizabeth responded quietly. She then gave herself a moment before continuing. "In your opinion, Doctor, what do you believe are the Colonel's chances of being restored to active duty?"

This was the question that Carson had been dreading the most, simply because he wasn't sure he had an answer. It was too early in the Colonel's recovery process, and the man's symptoms were too varied for the doctor to produce any firm opinion.

"Elizabeth, I'm just not sure," he said, opting for honesty. "I'm dealing with so many unknowns in his condition right now that it's impossible for me to come to any conclusions. I have no idea how that pod from the Aurora worked, and there's no way that I can determine what percentage of his symptoms continue to be caused by his exposure to the technology. Additionally, I had not anticipated him being unconscious for three days after the procedure. ICT patients generally recover within minutes upon being administered glucose, so I have to wonder if the pod continues to cause complications."

"I understand," said Elizabeth unhappily. Carson completely sympathized with her.

"Elizabeth, let's just take this slow," he said in an attempt to reassure her. "The blood test results will be delivered to me soon, and then I can decide whether or not additional treatment is necessary. The best I can do after that is keep you apprised of the Colonel's condition."

"Okay, Carson," Elizabeth response was as wan as her expression. She smiled wearily and slid further into the confines of her chair.

Beckett returned the tired smile with one of his own and then made a move for the office door. Elizabeth expected him to leave, but instead he paused in the doorway and turned to face her with a considering expression.

"One last thing, Elizabeth. I think we might have need to keep an eye on Rodney."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she thought about all that Rodney had also been through during the past few weeks and realized that Carson was right. "I suppose he's had a real hard time of it," she stated.

"Aye, it's true. But there's more to it than the obvious."

"What do you mean?" Despite the fact that she was nearing her wits' end, she couldn't help but be grateful when Carson answered her in his characteristically candid way.

"He's continuing to blame himself for the Colonel's condition to the point where I think that he needs absolution from the man. The problem is that the Colonel doesn't remember anything that happened to land him in the state he's in."

"But you said that all John had to do is read the mission file to understand what happened. We both know that John doesn't blame Rodney for his condition, and I'm sure that he will say as much to Doctor McKay when he can," Elizabeth's face was almost blank with puzzlement.

"Aye, I'm certain that you're right about that, Elizabeth, but I just don't think it's going to be good enough for Rodney. I think Rodney actually requires more than an apology based on the words in a report."

"But that's all that we have unless John regains those memories back!" Elizabeth stated, a bit exasperatedly.

"Aye," Carson said sadly. "So you see the problem then," he added. Then, after nodding politely he turned his miserable expression away from her to walk out of her office and back to his patients.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Real life has been a bear…with sharp, pointy teeth, and scary red eyes:) Hope you all like this part! Emrys**

"Leave it alone, Rodney. I can do it!" John snapped impatiently. He drew a shaky hand towards the downed pawn and clumsily maneuvered it to an upright position. Noting that Rodney was, again, reaching towards the board to help him, John flashed the man a warning look that brooked no argument. "I can do it," he repeated coldly.

"It's not that I doubt your ability to move it," Rodney responded impulsively. "It's just that I would like to finish this game sometime before we're all eaten by the Wraith."

The sarcastic statement had rolled off of his tongue automatically, and Rodney recognized it for what it was: just part of the regular routine of snarky conversation between two unlikely friends. But apparently Sheppard was still far from being able to handle what passed for normalcy in their unique friendship, because the deepening chill of his gaze caused McKay to shiver involuntarily.

"Fine!" John yelled and awkwardly threw the contested pawn at the chessboard, thereby ruining their game. He then pushed away the tray stand upon which the board was set and slumped against the pillows. "It wasn't my idea to play, anyway," he added angrily.

Aghast, McKay could only stare at the livid figure that Sheppard made as he tried to get a handle on what was going through the Colonel's head.

"Sheppard, I'm sorry. I was only playing around. Come on, let's start again."

John closed his eyes and turned away from the scientist. "Just go away, Rodney," he muttered petulantly.

"Sheppard, I…." Rodney was at a loss for words, and his fingers fluttered uselessly as if they were trying to pluck the right things to say out of the air. He experienced the characteristic irritation that he usually associated with such annoying occurrences as well as an unaccustomed feeling of helplessness that came close to undoing him. Finally realizing that nothing would assuage the presently emotional Colonel's temper, Rodney moved to solemnly clear the chessboard and pieces from out of the way. When he was finished, he took a closer, more attentive look at his friend and was dismayed to see that Sheppard still maintained an air of fragility. The feeling of helplessness grew, and he swallowed heavily before chancing to speak.

"Fine!" he snapped in an attempt to mask his hurt in his normal, prickly way. He cringed at the broken tone of his voice and realized that he had been less than successful in his deceptive effort. "I'll come back later," he then assured Sheppard in a quieter voice and despite the fact that the man appeared to be doing his best to disregard Rodney's presence in the room.

"Whatever," Sheppard mumbled and drew his body tighter around itself.

A pang of some painful, yet unidentifiable emotion assaulted Rodney so abruptly, that his breath was momentarily taken away. Without another word, he tucked the chess set under his arm and hurriedly left the room.

888888888

Beckett found him still curled up on his side only moments after the altercation with Rodney. John closed his eyes tightly and silently hoped that the doctor would take the hint and leave him alone. Normally he wouldn't mind chatting with Carson, but as evidenced by his poor behavior with McKay, John was feeling frustrated by both his condition and his memory loss. To make matters exponentially worse, he found himself struggling against the strong threat of tears. In fact, John had the feeling that if Carson tried to question him about his less than classy reaction to Rodney's normal, acerbic personality, he was going to start bawling like a little kid who had just lost his best friend.

Carson had warned him about the possibility of drastic changes in mood, and boy, he hadn't been kidding, had he? Between the dark bouts of anger and the frightening attacks of depression that he was experiencing, Sheppard couldn't believe that he would ever feel anything resembling normal again. And the worst part of it was that Rodney seemed to be the biggest target for his wild emotional state.

It had started when John had innocently asked the physicist where Ford was.

Rodney had stared at him for a long, awkward moment; the only indication of him having heard the question was the seemingly uncontrollable opening and closing of his mouth, a behavior that had disturbed John greatly. After what had seemed like hours, and when John's stomach had begun twisting in the very beginnings of knotted dread, Rodney had started babbling frenziedly.

"Maybe I should find Beckett," he had said looking around the room and distinctly avoiding John's eye. "You don't look very well right now, and I really think he should come take a look at you, because we wouldn't want you to relapse now would we?" The desperate hand movements that John recognized as Rodney's unconscious display of anxiety had accompanied the words, and his heart had sunk. As Rodney had continued babbling on about how he really ought to find Beckett, the Colonel had thought about all of the possible reasons for McKay's distress.

Only one conclusion had seemed plausible to him when taking into account Rodney's level of nervousness, and he remembered closing his eyes against the strong wave of grief that had suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. He had liked the kid. Liked his exuberance, his humor and his strong character. And, most importantly, he had trusted Ford both on personal and professional levels. But now, one way or the other the young man was gone.

After John had closed his eyes, his mind had focused all of its attention on McKay's maddening, unrelenting talk, and a flare of anger had ignited within him. The rage he had felt had been uncontainable, and in response to it, John had abruptly sat up and grabbed Rodney's shirt by its neck, effectively silencing the man.

"Just tell me what the fuck happened, McKay!" His voice had been cold and deadly, and Rodney had been frightened by it. The look of fear that had spread across his friend's face had given John the feeling of grotesque satisfaction, which in turn had scared him terribly.

After another long and awkward moment, John forced his weakening hands to release McKay's shirt. "I'm sorry, Rodney," he had quietly said. "I'm sorry. Maybe you're right. Maybe you really should get Beckett."

John had not seen Rodney's departure because he had slumped back into the bed and had closed his eyes against a drowning wave of depression. He had barely heard the physicist's assurances that he would fetch Beckett, and that everything would be all right. And after that he had only distantly heeded Carson's account of Ford's fate.

And even now and contrary to what he knew should be his customary reaction to the bad news of Ford's departure, Sheppard had still not managed to garner any hope for the young lieutenant's retrieval.

Taking his emotions out on Rodney had only escalated as time wore on. John wondered why the man continued to come to the infirmary to spend time with him, especially since the smallest word or gesture tended to set off hyperbolic emotional responses in him. If their roles had been reversed, John wasn't so sure that he would be as willing to entertain Rodney's company.

And now he could just imagine the concerned look in Beckett's eye, and that image combined with the visual he had of Rodney's pained expression as he had collected the chess pieces together was forcing him to lose the battle against the sickening melancholy he felt.

"Colonel…."

"Give me some good news, Carson," Sheppard murmured softly, and in doing so he purposefully interrupted the beginnings of the doctor's questions. He did not want to discuss Rodney.

John kept his eyes closed and his body curled around itself, so he could only imagine the expression that accompanied Carson's deep sigh of capitulation.

"Well, lad, I know you're feeling a mite downhearted right now, but the good news is that your brain chemistry seems to be sorting itself out. I'd expect you to feel more yourself within the next three days or so."

A part of John rejoiced at the news, but the other part that remained incapacitated by his current depression kept him from outwardly responding in an appropriately happy way. Instead he just nodded and relaxed enough so that he could look Carson in the eye as they conversed.

"And the weakness in my arms and legs?" he questioned.

Carson's satisfied smile faltered a bit. "Aye, well. I honestly don't know what to tell you about that, Colonel. Transient weakness in the limbs is quite common after insulin coma therapy, but I would expect it to have diminished by now."

To his horror, John felt an uncontrollable stream of tears begin to track down his face. He covered them with a shaky hand, and turned miserably away from Carson.

"Now don't fret so, son," Carson admonished gently. Sheppard felt the supportive grasp of a hand on his shoulder, and the tears came disturbingly faster. "Honestly Colonel, we don't know that this is a permanent condition. If I had to make a guess, the weakness will dissipate with physical therapy. And remember, you remained in coma for much longer than I had anticipated. It could just be that the side effects of the coma therapy have been exacerbated by your previous condition. Just give it some time, lad, and I'm confident that it will all work out in the end."

Carson's words stretched in a long stream through his consciousness, and John tried to be heartened by them. But it seemed as if the dismal sadness conjured up by his distinctly wonky brain chemistry was thwarting any chance of a positive reaction in him, because suddenly a hazy image from his childhood took over his thoughts.

John's quiet weeping mutated into outright sobbing, and Carson grasped his shoulder more tightly.

"It's alright, son. Settle yourself and tell me what's going through that head of yours right now."

John pressed his head further into the pillow in an attempt to erase the tears and this wholly embarrassing situation from his memory. Striking the side of his bed with a weak fist, he felt a little bit of anger infuse itself through his misery.

"I can't remember the name of that damn dog," he ground out through clenched teeth.

And then the tears took him away once more.

888

Teyla found Rodney in his lab, plucking morosely at the keys of his laptop. He was engrossed in his work and had not noticed her presence, so she allowed herself a moment to study him. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly as she noticed his unhappy posture and obviously distracted air. She was aware of his argument with Colonel Sheppard, had; in fact heard the entire ruckus. She had been nearing the infirmary to visit the Colonel, when the sound of his angry voice had drifted to her ears. Realizing that it had not been an opportune time for a visit, she had turned to leave only to have Doctor McKay hurriedly brush by her without recognizing her presence. She had noted then that the man had appeared upset, and that had worried her. Then, after talking to Doctor Beckett about what had occurred to put the physicist in such a state, she had deemed it appropriate to seek out her teammate and talk with him.

Seeing the man so obviously distraught, Teyla was glad that she had come. Doctor McKay tended to be unapproachable, so she had had apprehensions about initiating a conversation. But the man was part of her team, and he so obviously needed some manner of outlet for the overwhelming feelings with which he appeared to be struggling.

Still, Teyla rather hoped that McKay would not turn his acidic tongue in her direction, especially since she was only trying to offer her aid.

"Hello, Doctor McKay," she called gently and allowed a soft smile to grace her face in what she knew was a reassuring way.

Surprised by the unexpected intrusion, McKay visibly jumped, and his hands involuntarily scampered over the keyboard. As ever, his thoughts went to his work first, and before acknowledging Teyla, he studied the monitor to see what harm had been wrought by his mishandling of the keys.

Seeing that no real damage had been incurred, Rodney finally looked up and smiled uncertainly at Teyla.

"What brings you down here?" he asked by way of greeting.

Teyla continued to smile patiently and gestured in his direction.

"I came to see you, Doctor McKay," she answered. And then in a quieter, more soothing voice she added, "I heard that you and Colonel Sheppard had a disagreement."

"The man is insane!" Rodney's response was immediate and heated, and the intensity of his words startled her. "I mean, seriously, if he wasn't crazy before this whole mess, and believe me, that is a debatable issue, then he certainly is now!"

"Doctor McKay you know that the true nature of Colonel Sheppard's illness is not emotional in nature. He is not insane," Teyla insisted strongly. She had become very close to the members of her team on Atlantis and so needed to believe her words as much as she hoped McKay would.

"Well you couldn't tell by the way he keeps losing it on me!" Rodney replied sharply. "If I could only tell you how many times the man has cracked up in my presence during the past couple of days…well, let's just say we'd be here for a very long time."

"Doctor McKay, you know that the Colonel is ill and cannot be held responsible for his actions. He does not mean to strike out at you so viciously. He is simply incapable of controlling his impulses right now."

Teyla knew that Doctor McKay preferred to express irritation and anger in response to distress, and that his harsh words were only an attempt to hide his true feelings. But she also knew that the physicist was exhausted and guilt-ridden. It did not surprise her; consequently, when after Rodney pondered her words he seemed to physically deflate as if he realized that he did not have the energy to maintain the level of indignation necessary to continue his ruse.

"I have more important things to do than entertain an ungrateful Colonel, anyway," Rodney muttered in a half-hearted attempt to carry on his failing deception.

"Colonel Sheppard is your friend, Doctor McKay. No one faults you for being upset by his condition. I, myself, am very disconcerted by the unusual emotions he is experiencing."

McKay huffed and then dropped his tired head in his hands. "Tell me about it," he muttered.

Teyla smiled from where she continued to stand in the doorway of the lab. She was glad that Doctor McKay had found a friend in the Colonel. Her first impression of the physicist had been that of a hard to please man who purposefully distanced himself from others, and to a certain extent her estimation of McKay had not changed with time. He was a difficult man to know, but somehow the Colonel had managed to befriend the erstwhile loner. And to Teyla's eyes, the friendship had changed Doctor McKay for the better.

"I have talked to Doctor Beckett about the Colonel's condition, and he has given me some happy news," the Athosion woman said brightly, in an attempt to cheer Rodney.

"Really? What news?" Rodney's face, when he lifted it from his hands, was one of extreme need.

"The Colonel's 'brain chemistry' is getting better," Teyla said the unfamiliar words with a bit of doubt flavoring her tone, but she continued on despite her uncertainty. "We should see an improvement in his mood within a few days."

A tired and hesitant smile touched the corners of McKay's mouth. "Well, that's good. That's very good!" As he considered the happy news, Teyla observed a recurrence of the doctor's normal high energy and irritable pretense. "And it's about time too! Maybe I'll be able to have a conversation with the man without worrying about whether or not he's going to start planning to kill me in my sleep!"

Teyla chuckled and basked in her returning feelings of hopefulness. "Yes, Doctor McKay, that will be a good thing!" she agreed as she turned to leave him to his own better mood.

"Teyla…."

Teyla turned back to face Rodney when he called hesitantly to her from where he was sitting, sporting a serious expression.

"Yes, Doctor McKay?"

"Teyla, it's just…. I…well, I just wanted to say thank-you." Rodney struggled with the words, and his gratitude was not expressed as eloquently as he wished. But Teyla had gone out of her way to talk to him about his hurts, and he needed to articulate his appreciation in some way even if it was inadequate.

Teyla understood the level of feeling that was behind the man's words despite their clumsiness, and she bowed her head elegantly in his direction to acknowledge it.

"Have a good night, Doctor McKay," she said as she eventually exited the lab.

"Thank-you," Rodney called in a quiet voice that coasted lazily and happily to her ears.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi Everyone….**

**I just wanted to apologize for the long delay between posts (again!). This last installment was a battle of wills in more ways than one: there's a battle of wills going on between Sheppard and McKay in this chapter, and man, it was also a battle of my own will to get the two of them to cooperate and work with me! I even had to handwrite sections of this chapter to get it straight in my head…I haven't done that in…well…ages!**

**Regardless, the story is finished with this chapter, and I hope that you all enjoyed it. I know that I have enjoyed writing it as well as reading all of your kind comments!**

**Thanks!**

**Emrys**

**Iron String – Part 9 (Conclusion)**

The three days Carson had predicted it would take for Sheppard's chemistry to resolve itself had turned into a week and a half of bitter hell for the Colonel. Carson was unable to explain the delays in recovery that the man was experiencing, but there was no denying that Sheppard was still suffering from weakness in his limbs and that his abnormal brain chemistry had not settled itself out as quickly as Beckett had originally thought it would. The results of the initial blood tests had shown a steady evening off of the anomalous concentrations of neurotransmitters, but a sudden, unpredictable drop in the Colonel's levels of norepinephrine had occurred which had exacerbated Sheppard's poor emotional state. Since that time, the medical personnel had been unable to stabilize Sheppard's norepinephrine levels which had begun to cycle wildly through low and then high states. As the cycling became more dramatic, so had the Colonel's mood swings.

To say the least, it had been a bad time for the Colonel. After the first two days, John had weakened considerably and was no longer able to resist acting out in response to the chemical backwash that was filling his brain. Consequently, after another day of brutal and ultimately physically painful changes in mood, Sheppard had begged to be moved to an isolation room. Beckett had quickly complied with the man's wishes since it was unduly stressful for the proud Colonel to deal with the powerful moods without the luxury of privacy. For personnel to have easy access to Sheppard's uncontrollable sobbing or the screaming that erupted in response to violent fits of rage was unthinkable to the man who was the head of the military contingent in Atlantis.

When asked in one of his more lucid moments if he wanted visitation by his team to be withheld, Sheppard's answer had been adamantly affirmative. Beckett had then kept all visitors away from John, and while the man recovered had allowed access only to himself and to a nurse that he knew the Colonel implicitly trusted. It had been difficult for Beckett to turn away the Colonel's concerned teammates, and the doctor did not much enjoy the memory of Ronan's harsh reaction to the news, but overall Atlantis had respected Sheppard's privacy.

Rodney McKay had been another story altogether.

The man was absolutely infuriating, Beckett thought as he sat with his patient who was currently slumbering. McKay had refused to give Carson a moment's peace throughout Sheppard's recovery and had reached new heights of insulting with his comments directed at Beckett's ancestry. Carson had been forced into an exhausting, weeklong struggle with the irate physicist who had been determined to gain entry into Sheppard's isolation room through endless harassment. Much to Rodney's consternation and despite his best efforts; however, Beckett had been unmovable in his insistence that the Colonel be left to himself.

Knowing that Rodney was just concerned about his friend had done nothing to shake Beckett's resolute compliance with his patient's wishes. He understood the military mind well enough to know that John did not want his team to see any more of his emotional turmoil than they had already witnessed simply because he needed them to maintain confidence in his leadership abilities. Carson knew that this latest illness would leave its mark on the Colonel, and that as difficult as it would be for him to handle the consequences of his emotional symptoms, that task would be made exponentially more difficult if he believed that members of his own team would not be able to overcome the image they had of him being an emotional basket case.

And so Carson had kicked Rodney out of the infirmary time and time again with comforting words and sketchy reports of the Colonel's progress as the man's only reassurance.

"Hi, Carson."

Beckett was shaken from his thoughts by the gravelly sound of Sheppard's voice. He stood to move closer to the sick man's bed and studied him carefully.

"How're you feeling, Colonel?" Carson asked as he noted John's pasty gray complexion and sunken eyes.

"Tired. Head hurts," Sheppard said. He closed his eyes and tried to fuss with the nasogastric tube but was prevented from doing so by the soft restraints that Carson had been forced to use on the Colonel when he had experienced a particularly strong bout of depression. The doctor had feared that Sheppard would use his penchant for ingenuity to hurt himself and so had placed the man in restraints.

"Leave the tube alone, Colonel," Beckett admonished softly. "You're too thin. You need the nutrients it's feeding you."

John nodded uncomfortably and pulled his hands away from his face and the tube.

"I'm afraid that I can't give you anything for your headache right now," Beckett admitted. "We've had so much trouble maintaining your norepinephrine level that I don't want to risk it going haywire again with the administration of a painkiller. Your norepinephrine has balanced out, by the way. How are you feeling? Psychologically, that is."

Sheppard opened his eyes and seemed to consider his emotional status carefully before answering. Looking on as the man mulled over the question, it seemed to Carson as if the Colonel couldn't be sure of how he felt. After what had occurred during the last week and a half, Beckett wasn't surprised by the confused reaction.

"Okay, I guess," Sheppard finally said in a voice that conveyed just how much he didn't trust that self-assessment. "Better," he added after a moment.

"Aye, that's good, son," Carson responded with a tired smile and a pat on the Colonel's shoulder. "That's what I expected. Your latest blood tests show only a slight irregularity in the level of norepinephrine, and I suspect you'll be feeling more yourself within another couple of days."

"That's what you said the last time," Sheppard responded cynically.

Recognizing the implied concern in the Colonel's sharp statement, Carson frowned unhappily. "Aye, it's true that I thought the situation would have improved well before now, but I'm confident that we've seen the worst of it. In fact, I'm going to remove the restraints now, if you don't mind."

The look of alarm on John's face disturbed Carson greatly.

"Are you sure, Doc? I mean, I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Yes, son, I'm certain," Carson made sure that his voice communicated all of the confidence he felt for the Colonel. Then, without a further word, he released the restraints. As he did so, he thought about how close he had come to ordering a second round of ICT/ECT therapy on the man during the past week and felt a great wave of relief wash over him when he realized that a subsequent treatment would be unnecessary. John was now lucid, and it was the first time in a week that Beckett was able to talk to him without the man raging with fury or drowning in a flood of sorrow.

"How long have I been out of it?" Sheppard asked quietly.

"A week and a half, lad. Do you remember anything?"

"Some. Not much," John admitted with a stony expression. "Enough to know that I should thank you, though."

The Colonel could not seem to meet Beckett's eye, and Carson frowned. Sheppard _was_ a proud man, and it would be difficult for him to accept that another human being had seen him in an uncontrollable state, even if that human being was his medical doctor and a friend.

"Ah, don't worry yourself about that, Colonel. I was just doing my job."

John stole a grateful look at Carson and then smiled grudgingly.

"Then maybe you ought to ask someone for a raise, Carson. You look like hell."

Beckett could only imagine the figure he made after a week and a half of constant vigilance. And truthfully, he was more tired and wrung out than he could ever remember being before.

"You shouldn't talk, Colonel. As bad as I look, you look ten times worse," Carson said with mock irritation coloring his voice.

"I suppose I'm in no position to talk," Sheppard responded while eyeing the restraints ruefully. A blurry image of Rodney's pain-stricken face suddenly came to his mind, and he winced at the vague unrest the memory caused. "Listen, Doc, my head's a little fuzzy, so would you mind getting me up to speed with what's been happening? Did I hurt anyone? I seem to recall…well…McKay not looking too happy."

Beckett considered for a moment what to tell the colonel. Though it was true that Sheppard had sent an already torqued up McKay further through the wringer with his incensed outbursts, the doctor did not deem it wise to overwhelm the still obviously weak man with emotional concerns.

"Aye, it's true. The man's been fretting over you the whole while you've been ill. Worked himself into a right set of nerves, he has," Beckett kept his tone decidedly equal and hoped that the usually perceptive colonel would not question him further. After Sheppard re-accustomed to his stable status and the chances for any remission decreased, Beckett figured he could ease the man into accounts of his actions towards Rodney.

But Sheppard looked troubled, and Beckett immediately noted the puzzled look on the man's face.

"No, no it was more than that," Sheppard insisted. "I don't know for sure what's been going on, Doc, but I have the feeling that I may owe some people apologies." Sheppard's eyes drooped tiredly, but he fought his exhaustion and pressed on. "Tell me what happened, Beckett," he commanded gently and then shifted his upper body weakly in an effort to stave off the sleep that he seemed determined to ignore.

With a slight frown on his face, Beckett momentarily watched the indomitable man before softening his expression and adjusting Sheppard into a position that was more conducive to comfortable sleep.

"Aye, lad. I can't deny that there's been plenty of pain to go around for all of us these past few weeks. But now is not the time to dwell on it. You need to rest. I'll tell you all about it when you wake up again."

"But, Doc…." Sheppard's words were a soft murmur that no longer held any power to compel Beckett. Already John's eyes had closed and his body had relaxed into the rough sheets of the infirmary bed.

"It'll keep 'til later, son. Sleep," Beckett commanded.

For once, and to Carson's great relief, the Colonel did as he was told.

888

John woke up from a dream in which he was tossing a stick to a brown mutt with lop-sided ears to find Rodney staring at him with worried eyes. He felt sweaty and weak and did not appreciate the audience. The frustration he felt at being observed was furthered by the dream and its reminder of his memory loss. Moving slowly, he shifted into a more comfortable position and scrubbed viciously at his gritty eyes.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked Rodney.

"Around."

"That so doesn't answer my question."

"It wasn't meant to."

Rodney's inadequate response increased John's frustration ten-fold, and he changed the subject to one that he hoped would yield more positive results.

"Listen, I've been talking to the Doc. He told me what you've done for me."

"Done _for _you or done _to _you?"

Beckett had informed John that Rodney had been experiencing guilt over his medical condition, so John wasn't exactly surprised by the biting response. He just wished that Rodney had allowed him to gain his bearings so that he could slowly ease his way into this conversation. He wasn't keen to jump right into the melee of an emotionally charged dialogue, but it appeared that Rodney was forcing his hand.

"Rodney, I know what happened, and you really need to stop blaming yourself," Sheppard said with a weary sigh.

Rodney stood in response to the sudden change in subject, and he began to anxiously snap his fingers. John watched as the man's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and his jaw jutted out in typical obstinacy. "Are you telling me that you remember what happened on the Aurora?" he asked dryly. "And don't lie. I can tell when you're lying."

"Oh come off it. You haven't got a clue when I'm lying!" Sheppard exclaimed, offended. Rodney seemed about to protest, but his jaw wisely snapped shut when Sheppard sent a recalcitrant glare in his direction.

John took advantage of Rodney's sudden quiet to consider what he wanted to say next. Despite feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, he didn't want to see it disintegrate into a sparring match. Anyone who had even an iota of an understanding of who Dr. Rodney McKay really was could see that he was suffering under the weight of his guilt. Rodney was doing his damnedest to maintain the façade of normalcy, but to Sheppard's trained eye, the man was deeply distressed. John knew that he had to iron this thing out with the physicist regardless of how uncomfortable the ironing may be. And, he supposed, he would have to use the truth to settle the issue, because anything less would be an insult to their friendship.

"Alright, so no, I don't really remember what happened on the Aurora," John admitted. When he saw Rodney's expression close and his posture become infused with defeat, he hurriedly added, "But I've talked to Teyla and Ronan. Even had a discussion with Elizabeth and the Doc. They've filled me in on what happened on the Aurora, and how you might be feeling responsible considering what had happened with the Arc…Arcturus project before that," he inwardly cursed when he stumbled over the foreign word. McKay would notice the slip.

"How do you expect me to believe that you have any real understanding of what I put you through when all you've experienced is a second-hand accounting of what happened! No one else was actually with us when we went back to Durandanes or when I subsequently destroyed an entire solar system! And…well, you can't even pronounce the project title correctly!"

Sheppard winced at the expected accusation and again cursed his previously inept pronunciation. He wished that Rodney had not picked up on the stumble, and for once he would have liked to have been disappointed about one of his insights into Rodney McKay's personality traits.

"Well, in all seriousness, Rodney, could I actually pronounce the project title correctly before the whole memory loss fiasco?" he replied in a weak attempt to inject some humor into the conversation.

Rodney almost smirked in amusement at the remark, but then defeat twisted his mouth into a tight frown and forced him back into the chair beside Sheppard's bed. "That has nothing to do with it," he muttered colorlessly. He bent his head and seemed to sink into himself. "How can I take comfort in anything you have to say when you can't remember what I did to you?" he asked forlornly and without taking his gaze away from the floor.

Sheppard heard the unspoken words of raw need behind the subtle plea and experienced an urgency that he had not felt up to this point. In something akin to shock, he suddenly realized that Rodney was falling apart at the seams, and that the only thing between the physicist's normal approximation of sanity and a total emotional shutdown was Sheppard's faulty memory and less than eloquent way of conversing about feelings.

"Listen, McKay, you're right. I don't remember anything about what happened on the Aurora, and I obviously don't directly remember what happened on Durandes. But I'm not an idiot, and anyone can see that you've determined that the two situations are monumental screw ups on your part."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Rodney interjected dryly. He stood up again and, much to John's dismay, looked prepared to flee.

"Rodney, did it ever occur to you that I might need to take some responsibility for what happened?" John asked.

Rodney switched his attention away from the door and back to his teammate. "_You_ need to take some of the responsibility?" he asked incredulously. "Now that's rich! I blow up an entire solar system, and you think you should be responsible."

"It was only three-quarters of a solar system," John muttered defensively in an effort to give himself some time to think of the right thing to say next.

"Alright, three-quarters of a solar system!" Rodney echoed sarcastically. "Still, do you mind telling me how _you_ are responsible for _my_ actions?"

"Listen, McKay, from all accounts you were a bit overzealous when it came to the project, but apparently I went along with your plans. From what I've been able to determine of the situation, there was no reason to rush the testing, no reason to expect the Wraith would intercept the weapon at anytime in the near future. I'm military. If I allowed us both to go there just to appease your ego, then I made just as big a mistake as you did."

Rodney did not appear mollified. "I asked you to trust me, and it almost got you killed," he stated dejectedly.

"It was a mistake," John conceded. "And it was my mistake as well as yours. Besides, you didn't get us killed."

"Yeah, I remember using that argument in my own defense. You didn't appreciate it at the time," Rodney responded dryly.

"Well forgive me for being human, McKay!" John spat out angrily. "I'm telling you now that I accept part of the blame for that situation, and nothing you say can convince me otherwise!"

Rodney still did not appear to be completely placated, but at least he did seem to consider John's position carefully. John suddenly realized that he had presented an argument that Rodney could not counter-argue, and that the man was processing the information as the intellectual equivalent of a check in a game of chess.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Rodney suddenly said in a hollow tone that dashed Sheppard's hopes of ending the conversation quickly. "I made the same mistake on the Aurora, and okay, so that didn't get you killed either, but it certainly wasn't a walk in the park for you."

"Rodney, you aren't responsible for what happened on the Aurora. That situation was different."

Suddenly he had Rodney's full and trembling attention, and yet he didn't understand what he had said that had earned such a response from his friend.

"How? Tell me how, please. You were going to before, but then you went all gorky on me…."

"Gorky?" John's puzzlement forced him to interrupt Rodney's appeal. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. Just tell me what you mean when you say that the situation on the Aurora was different. Because from where I'm sitting, it's the exact same thing," McKay's voice had taken on a lost yet adversarial tone that set John's teeth on edge.

"McKay, for someone who is always claiming to be so smart, you can be really dumb sometimes, you know that?" John growled. He was quickly starting to get too tired to think clearly, but he wanted a suitable resolution to this conversation and the trouble surrounding it before he gave into his weaknesses. He closed his eyes in an attempt to gather strength and found himself fighting bone deep weariness.

"There are many ways in which the situation on the Aurora was different," he said slowly. "But the one that sticks out, for me at least, is that you weren't reckless with my life and with the lives of the rest of the team. You stopped thinking of your own self and considered the others. That's a significant difference in my book."

"But…."

"You wanted to go into the pod, and by all accounts, I'm the one who insisted on going in. You even argued against it," John responded quickly without letting McKay have a word in edgewise. "Again, McKay, I'm the one who was responsible for this situation."

McKay considered John's words momentarily, and Sheppard was dismayed to see that heavy guilt still weighed down the man's posture.

"I told you it was safe. You trusted me, and I was wrong," Rodney mumbled in such a soft voice that John could barely hear him.

"That's true, Rodney, but what else were we going to do? The Wraith were coming, and this was an opportunity to interact with Ancients and garner information about them that you and I both know this city needs. It was a sound, tactical decision to enter the virtual environment. What else could we do? We take risks in this job, McKay, in case you haven't noticed. We have to trust ourselves to make the best decisions that we can. I trust you to do that. Why can't you trust yourself?"

"But I was so selfish with the Ancient weapon, I…."

"That's over! Let it stay in the past!" Sheppard interrupted through gritted teeth. He was unwilling to let McKay backslide to what he considered was a flawed argument.

Rodney studied the sincerity on John's face, and then his jaw snapped shut as he recognized there was nothing more to say. His choices were to accept the Colonel's forgiveness and continue contributing to the society of Atlantis or to ignore his friend's generous gift and go crazy in the process.

"You people would never make it without me," he attempted to say in his usual, cavalier way, but he was so affected by Sheppard's willingness to forgive that the words came out only in a broken whisper.

John didn't hear the words, but he saw the lines of worry on Rodney's face ease and his stiff posture relax. John felt the tension in his own muscles dissipate, and his body shook with the exhaustion that the combined effects of his illness and the conversation had bestowed upon him.

An uncomfortable silence reigned until McKay uneasily cleared his throat.

"So, uh," he began, discomforted by the awkward need to change the subject. "Ummm, so when is Beckett letting you out of here?"

Sheppard grimaced. "Whenever I'm able to walk across the room without my legs giving out on me. Beckett keeps telling me that the weakness will fade with time, but until then, he's not letting me out of his clutches."

"Yeah, about that," Rodney began and felt another rush of sudden guilt, but now that he had almost accepted Sheppard's position on the nature of culpability, he resolutely pushed the guilt away. The Colonel would not appreciate Rodney belittling the man's previous offering of forgiveness by wallowing in more self-reproach. "I'm sorry for shocking the hell out of your brain. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and besides, you weren't using those brain cells anyway."

"What're a few brain cells between friends?" John asked, weakly. Rodney suddenly noticed the man's eye contact slip, and self-doubt tinge Sheppard's expression.

He eyed Sheppard knowingly and considered the possible causes for the disconcerting behavior in his friend.

"I would have expected you to be more anxious to leave. At this point in your convalescence you're usually drawing up complicated escape plans that have Carson reaching for his pointiest needles at the slightest sound."

"I'm just tired," Sheppard claimed. Looking at him, Rodney had no doubt that the man was telling the truth. He was too thin, pale and shivering, but McKay still suspected that there was more to the Colonel's reticence than simple fatigue.

"Are you sure that's it?" Rodney carefully asked around his suddenly dry mouth. He wasn't used to showing concern by talking about it. He much rather preferred to demonstrate his worry with loud, caustic words that never really drove to the root of the problem.

For his part, Sheppard felt like the proverbial kid with his hand in the cookie jar. This time around his health had seriously jeopardized his emotional well being, and he found himself uneasy and unaccustomed to his own mind. He remained on edge about the unpredictable status of his condition, and the worry was beginning to eat at him. He supposed the right thing to do would be to talk to someone about it, but it just wasn't his way. He also wasn't sure if he wanted to burden someone who was still recovering from his own distress by discussing his doubts and worries.

But after a few moments of nervous deliberation, he found himself hoarsely blurting out his uncertain thoughts. "What if I'm still crazy? What if things never really get back to normal? What do I do?"

Rodney's response was to be quiet for so long that Sheppard had a moment to wonder if he had really voiced his concerns out loud. But he had only seconds to hope that he had imagined the outburst before Rodney cleared his throat and attempted to answer the desperate questions.

"Trust yourself," he said with gentle irony that was not lost on John. "There is nothing chemically wrong with your brain anymore, and your EEG is normal. You're sane, or rather as sane as you ever were, and barring any other Pegasus galaxy-sized disasters, that's the way you're going to stay."

John considered the words and recognized the truth of them.

"I can accept that," he said simply.

"Wow! I'm good!" Rodney exclaimed, much to Sheppard's confusion.

"What the hell are you talking about now, McKay?"

"Well, look at how long it took you to convince me that everything's fine, and here it only took me a few seconds to convince you of the same thing. Just call me "Magic Words" McKay from now on."

"That had nothing to do with you!" John responded in a tone that expressed annoyance he did not actually feel. "I simply decided to make things less complicated than you did!"

Rodney snorted. "Either that or you're just plain simple."

"McKay, I'm going to ignore you now," John said. His eyes drifted closed of their own accord, and his breathing evened out. But John had been asleep for less than a minute when an urgent thought caused his breathing to hitch and his awareness to return. It took a monumental effort, but he was able to force his eyes open and stare hazily at Rodney again.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you so much," he muttered in a painfully remorseful tone. "Thanks for coming back." He blinked heavily during the entire apology and then involuntarily drifted off to sleep as soon as the last word left his mouth.

"That's what friends are for," McKay answered and felt a deep sense of satisfaction at being able to apply the trite statement to someone with whom he was acquainted. Determined to stay until Sheppard came back from unconsciousness, Rodney settled into the hard backing of the plastic chair.

888

"Ronald? What the hell kind of name is that for a dog?" Beckett heard Sheppard's incredulous voice which was directed at McKay, and he lifted his head from his paperwork to listen to their strange conversation.

"How the hell should I know? This is your dog we're talking about after all."

"Never mind, just give me another one."

"Okay, Rufus."

"That's worse than Ronald!"

Beckett barely concealed a smile as he listened from his office to the two men arguing with one another. The sound of the animated conversation was pleasing to his ears because it indicated that some resemblance to normalcy had returned to his infirmary. John had been moved from the isolation room to a curtained off area of the infirmary the previous day, and Beckett was pleased to note that his patient was finally regaining the strength of his arms and legs. The Colonel was still abysmally thin, but the nasogatric tube had been removed, and Carson was hoping that he would be able to start Sheppard on a soft food diet within the day.

But the most notable and happy changes that had taken place had been to both Rodney and Sheppard's frames of mind. Carson was relieved to see that McKay and Sheppard appeared to have resolved the majority of their issues with one another, and he relished the standard sounds of their odd friendship. Despite the fact that the two men could irritate him to the point where he found himself throwing bedpans, he considered them both friends. And as a friend, he was happy to put up with the annoyance of their snarking since it was an indication of both their physical and emotional well-beings.

Beckett smiled and closed the file he was working on. He had just reached his hand out to grab the next folder from the never-ending pile that was stacked on his desk when a joyful cry issued from behind the curtain and drew his attention.

"That's it! THAT'S IT!" Sheppard crowed.

Beckett smiled with satisfaction and turned away from the paperwork. He quickly left his office as he heard the Colonel and McKay raucously celebrating and rushed to the curtained area. He planned on chastising the two men for being overly loud in his infirmary.

But first he would make sure to find out the name of that dog of Sheppard's.

----------------------------------FINIS-----------------------------------------


End file.
